


You and Me

by Sketched_Ink



Category: The Flash (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barry has a night job, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Barry, Cannon complacent, Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Len makes unknowing ironic puns, M/M, Plot, Pre-Series, Pre-particle accelerator, Smut, Through to actual series, Top!Len, puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketched_Ink/pseuds/Sketched_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had long fingers, pianists fingers, that curled delicately around the glass as he prepared a drink. His eyebrows would closen slightly in concentration when he measured out the alcohol, focusing solely on the task in front of him. It was so exact. Perfect measurements of liquid swirling together in a mesmerising pattern as the man worked. Len wanted to take that total precision and break it down, strip away the layers of careful concentration and reveal what was behind.</p><p>(shameless PWP with a smidgeon of plot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend listening to a hot, clubby soundtrack whilst reading, such as, 'You and Me' by Disclosure (that's what I wrote it to anyway), then sit back and enjoy!

The club was loud, pumping music shaking the room. A beautiful baseline thumped through Len's body powerfully, so strong he could feel it in his core.  
  
Len came here a lot. It was a new club, all black marble bar tops and pendant lighting, flashes of colour painted across the walls in time with the bass. He liked it, it was classy. Len was more of a bar guy, but something restless had stirred in his gut recently, and a few weeks ago, Len had decided to try this place out. He'd come back five times since. He'd found something there, buried beneath the pulsating music and bursts of colour, and Len was starting to feel like an addict as he crawled back time after time to get his fix.  
  
The club was popular, full of swaying bodies and women that glanced at him with smouldering eyes. Len wasn't interested in them, no matter the heat in their gaze, nor the slow way they slid their hands down their bodies. He wasn't seeking out the company of a woman tonight; recently, he'd been craving something other than supple curves.   
  
Lounging against the bar stool, body stretched out like a cat, Len sent a slow smirk towards the bartender. He was what Len had found himself being dragged back into the fray of the club night after night for. For some reason, Len just couldn't resist the sugary, painful longing that encompassed him every time he caught sight of the man. Len didn't just approach people, though, he had to mentally dissect them first, figure out what made them tick, what drove them, what would tear them apart before he could do anything. It was addictive, lusting after the man, and took just the right amount of self-control  
  
Len liked him.   
  
He had long fingers, pianists fingers, that curled delicately around the glass as he prepared a drink. His eyebrows would closen slightly in concentration when he measured out the alcohol, focusing solely on the task in front of him. It was so exact. Perfect measurements of liquid swirling together in a mesmerising pattern as the man worked. Len wanted to take that total precision and break it down, strip away the layers of careful concentration and reveal what was behind.  
  
His lips. Len couldn't tear his eyes away from his lips. Every smile was a beautiful stretch of the plump flesh, the corners lifting just so, just enough to curl them into an expression that couldn't have been copied by Michelangelo. Len wanted to bite them, watch them redden and to pull the flushed skin into his mouth. He wanted to watch as hushed obscenities poured across those lips, wanted to hear him pant and moan.   
  
They looked so soft.  
  
Len knew they'd be so soft.   
  
But oh, his eyes.  
  
Len could compose odes to those eyes. Carefully hooded under sculpted brows, they were the most expressive things he'd ever seen. Those eyes couldn't lie if they tried, and Len truly believed that if he could get close enough to search their depths, he'd find every one of the man's thoughts laid bare to him. Crystal balls embedded in the bartender's face. Len wanted to watch as scalding pleasure wracked those eyes. He wanted to memorise every flicker of desire and pleasure that flashed through their surface. He wanted to own those eyes.  
  
The bartender turned around, away from the bar, to reach up for a bottle on one of the high shelves. Len tried to repress the tightening in his pants as his eyes greedily consumed every inch of skin that was revealed when his shirt rode up. His gaze roamed over the dimples at the bottom of the man's spine, and Len felt his eyelids slide slightly lower. His lower stomach tightened, and he turned away.  
  
Len had come to the same club five times in the last two weeks just to stand at the bar and visually devour that man. He didn't even know his name. Len let his eyes slide back over to the bartender, nursing the last of his scotch as he tried to keep his eyes unnoticed.   
  
Tonight was the night. Five nights of visual casing was enough, Len needed to get his hands on that man.   
  
Raising his glass slightly off the bar top, Len tilted his head to give the bartender a sideways glance. The man noticed, raising his brows slightly before nodding, excusing himself from his conversation with a woman seated a few stools down, and making his way over.  
  
"Same again?", Len suppressed a shudder as he spoke. His voice was just rough enough to be intriguing, and not too low, yet easily heard over the music. Len stared at his glass, lips curling ever so slightly in pleasure at the smooth sound, before easing his eyes to meet the glass surface of the other man's.   
  
"Please", Len rumbled in return, his voice deeper than usual, "What's your name?". The bartender reached behind him to pull the bottle of scotch from a shelf, and slid an empty glass in front of Len as he uncorked the drink. "Barry, Barry Allen", he said fluidly, dropping a circular ice cube into the glass before pouring the amber liquid. Len rolled the name around his mouth, savouring it, " _Barry Allen_ ".   
  
Barry glanced up at him as Len drew out the words, something thoughtful rippling across his pupils. Len leaned across the bar slightly, tilting his head, and sent Barry his most toe curling smirk, thought heavily lidded eyes, "Does your shift end soon, _Barry Allen_?". Surprise flitted across Barry's face, and the younger man glanced across the bar at the woman he'd been serving earlier, cheeks flushing, "Oh, uh, I can't. Um-".   
  
Len slowly drew back, trying to ignore the disappointment coiling in his gut as the bartender floundered, "I see", he murmured coolly, watching the woman Barry had been talking to earlier across the bar. She'd glanced over more than once, and clearly knew Barry better than Len. Something tight and ugly reared in his chest.

Jealousy. Len, master thief and scourge of the CCPD who could buy this bar ten times over if he so chose, felt jealous of a woman he'd never even spoken to.

  
Eyes falling back onto the blushing cheeks of Barry Allen, Len adapted his plan. Clearly, the direct approach wasn't going to work, "Excuse me for a moment", he drawled, sliding from his position against the bar, and sauntered over to the woman. She appeared surprised to see him approach her, but none the less, sat up slightly straighter, and pressed out her chest as she pretended not to see him draw closer. That was fine. Len wasn't above using his looks to charm her into facilitating his plan.  
  
"It seems cruel that such an exquisite woman has been sitting at this bar top for the past half an hour. Someone stand you up?", Len leant backwards against the counter, only meeting her eyes after he finished talking. She really was pretty, mocha skin, almond eyes and soft features, the dress she wore clinging to her figure in a way that would've been alluring to any straight man.   
  
"Oh, no, I'm just keeping my friend company", she replied, smiling easily up at the man who'd approached her, "I'm Iris, friends with the bar tender", she stuck out a slender hand, which Len took graciously, before releasing. Len could feel Barry's eyes on them, but kept his eyes fixed on Iris, "Lovely to meet you, Miss Iris. Please, call me Leonard, Leonard Snart".   
  
Len's eyes roamed the dance floor, "Now I've broken the ice, I should really reveal my true reasons for wandering over here", he drawled, "If you truly weren't waiting for anyone, would you care for a dance?". Iris brought a hand up to her lips, hiding a smile. Len fought to keep his lips from turning up in a satisfied smirk; it was nice to know he hadn't lost his touch, even if it wasn’t effective on the object of his obsessions.

"I would love a dance, Mr Snart", she replied, picking up her drink, grabbing Len's hand, and pulling him into the mass of sweaty bodies.  
  
Len didn't need to look behind him, he could feel Barry's eyes on him and Iris as they began to dance. Iris was a good enough dancer, using her hips mostly to sway her body along with the music, her hands sliding up and down her dress in a way that would've been appealing to any straight man. Len could appreciate that she was beautiful, certainly beautiful enough to be admired by Barry, but her wandering hands didn't spike so much as a spark of attraction in his gut. Nothing like the electric that shot through Len when his eyes fell on Barry.   
  
Distracted as he was, Len didn't notice how close Iris had gotten until she was leaning up to his ear. It was loud, and Iris had every need to get so close to talk to Len, but he couldn't help the ever so slight movement to pull away as she drew into his personal space. "You know, you didn't have to try so hard to make him jealous",  Len's eyes widened as she pulled back.   
  
Iris's eyes glinted, and a smirk very similar to Len's own spread across her lips. Regaining mastery of his expression, Len pulled up a smirk to rival hers as he replied, "What makes you think I'm trying to make him jealous?". Raising a pristine eyebrow, Iris sent him a calculating look, and only then did Len realise that what had been glinting behind her eye was a fierce intelligence, "Don't play games, Leonard, I know you're trying to get my brother's attention. You've been in the same bar stool for the last two weeks".   
  
Len didn't reply, he just stopped dancing, and sent her an annoyed glare, "Why did you play along, then, if you were so aware of my intentions". Iris smirked, like she was privy to some brilliant secret that only she knew, that Len couldn't even begin to fathom, and leaned forwards again, "Because, you idiot, Barry's been trying to do the exact same thing".  
  
Sending Iris his most withering expression, Len folded his arms, unimpressed, "Clearly I'm not the idiot, because he just turned me down". Iris threw back her head and laughed,  a musical tinkering that Len could understand Barry's appreciation for. Deluded as she was, Iris was beautiful.   
  
"Yes, you are. He never actually turned you down, he just already had plans to go out with me after his shift. He's too much of a sweetie to let me down. Believe me, you didn't see his expression when you walked away", Iris smirked, her velvety voice coated in smugness. She raised her hands and begun to sway again, only glancing back at Len once, "Who am I to stand in the way of that? His shift finishes in ten minutes. Wait in the alley out back, he'll be there, I promise", she yelled to be heard over the base, and closed her eyes as she rolled her hips. Len was gone before she opened them again.  
  
True to Iris's word, Barry stumbled out the back door of the club ten minutes later, eyes downwards as he viciously tried to yank the zip up on his hoodie. Len watched as he drew the material closer to his slender body, and looked up, their eyes meeting, and Barry’s widened rapidly.   
  
"I didn't ever actually get an answer out of you, I'm afraid, so I decided to chill out here in the off chance that you'd finish at midnight. And here you are", Len's voice was quiet, despite the thumping base still audible from the back alley, yet easily carried across the space. Without a bar between them, Len could finally get to see all of Barry. He had a runners build, all long lines and slender limbs, and those big eyes that just shine out from above his cheekbones. Len felt the longing return in full force, rekindling low in his belly.   
  
Barry was looking right at him, a slight flush across his cheeks, and Len hungrily watched him swallow, realising the emotions that was showing in Barry's eyes were a mirror of his own. Len took a step towards him, then another, closing the distance between their bodies in slow, steady, steps. Barry didn't move, apart from the apparently subconscious jerk of his fingers towards his palm as Len approached.   
  
Finally, Len was barely two feet away from him, enclosing Barry between his body, and the alley wall behind him. Those eyes had never left Len's, and the older man slowly, so slowly, leant down, pausing just above Barry's lips, a question burning in his pupils, a warning that if Barry didn't pull away now, didn't tell Len that this wasn't what he wanted, that Len was going to take it anyway.   
  
Barry's eyes lidded, gaze flicking between Len's matching stare, and his slightly open lips, before he slowly moved forward, eliminating the space between them, and then Barry was kissing him.  
  
Len had been right. Those lips were so soft; slick and warm and supple and he couldn't get enough. With a low groan, Len gently bit into Barry's lower lip, taking advantage of the other's gasp to slip inside his mouth. Barry melted, and Len stepped forward, pressing the younger man into the wall as an urgency overtook his actions. Suddenly, Len wasn't gently mapping out Barry's mouth, he was plundering it.   
  
Pressing deeper, Len curled his tongue around Barry's, delighting as the younger man's slick muscle slowly began to respond, stroking alongside him, beginning to delve into Len's mouth as well. It was better than he could've imagined, the desire making him light-headed, and his hands came up, one sliding around the back of Barry's head to tangle in his hair and pull them closer, the other splayed across the brickwork next to Barry's ear. Eyes closed, Len felt more than saw Barry shyly slide his hands around his neck, grinding their lower bodies together.   
  
The embers in Len's belly had grown into a roaring, burning need, and his dick was pressing tightly against his zipper. Len needed to get Barry out of his jeans, he desperately needed to run his hands along Barry's skin, to break him down with pleasure. Reluctantly, Len pulled his mouth away from Barry's watching a string of their mixed saliva stretch between their lips for a moment, before snapping. Trying to keep his eyes above Barry's spit-wetted lips, Len managed to find him voice, even if it was slightly rougher than usual, "My place is five minutes away".   
  
Nodding frantically, Barry scratched his long fingers across Len's scalp, "Y-yes", he panted, eyes zeroing back in onto Len's lips. Len groaned, diving forward to press their lips together for a few moments, before pulling away again, and stepping back. God, Barry looked wrecked. His eyes were as expressive as Len had imagined, perhaps even more so, and at that moment, the pupils were blown wide with desire. Desire directed at Len, and if that didn't make his breath catch in his throat, the combined onslaught of flushed cheeks, ruffled hair, puffy lips and tented trousers was more than enough to make Len wish he could take Barry right then and there, in the alleyway.  
  
Utilising every lingering ounce of restraint available to him, Len resisted, pulling his hand out of Barry's hair, "Follow me", turned around, and strode towards the lights at the end of the alley. The sound of stumbling footsteps following him left Len able to continue walking towards his bike without looking back. He grabbed the helmet off the seat, and turned to place it over Barry's head, before straddling the bike.  
  
Len patted the leather behind him with a sultry smirk, turning to grip the handlebars as slender arms slowly encircled his middle, and Barry's body heat soaked through the back of Len's jacket. Len could feel Barry's hardness through his jeans, pressed against his lower back. Deciding he had more than enough reason to get back to his apartment as quick as humanly possible, Len kick revved the bike once, before taking off.  
  
Barry's hold tightened, moulding himself against Len's back as the wind whipped around them and the streets flashed past. Len liked that, he liked the way Barry's slender form was mounded against his, arms tight around his waist. He wanted those arms around his back, the long legs encircling his hips from a different angle. Pants tightening, Len sped up.  
  
As soon as the bike skidded to a stop outside Len's apartment, he was off the saddle and facing the younger man. With a gentleness that fought his burning arousal, he lifted the helmet off from Barry's head. The kid's cheeks were flushed from the cold air, but his eyes were as bright as ever, shining up at Len in the bleaching streetlights. God, Len wanted him, he felt like he wanted him more than he needed to breathe.  
  
Growling softly, Len leant down, seeking out Barry's lips with his own, and pulling his legs around his hips and lifting. The younger man groaned  into Len's mouth, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, and legs tightening around his hips. They were both still hard, erections rubbing needily against each other through their clothes as Barry writhed.   
  
Blindly, Len stumbled up his steps, pushing open the door, and shoving Barry against the wood as it closed. He couldn't wait any longer, he needed to get his hands on Barry's skin. He needed to take him into his mouth and pull more of those delicious little noises from his lips. Len dropped to his knees, hands running down the front of Barry's thighs and up the back of them, hooking his fingers into the belt loops above the soft curve of his ass.   
  
Barry was panting; short, sharp gasps that cut the air, and when Len raised his eyes, he found the other man's already fixed on his. Len smirked wickedly, leaning forward and nuzzling the firmness he found there. He mouthed over the bulge, pants tightening further as he drank in the wave of wordless pleading he received for his efforts. Barry's hands scrabbled over the back of his head, trying to find purchase. They settled with one cupping Len's jaw, whilst the other rested against the base of his skull, urging Len forward with his body as well as his words.  
  
Len relented, using the hands on the back of Barry's jeans to tug the material down, over the swell of his ass and down to his knees. His hands drifted back over the muscle, gently kneading the firm flesh as he went, reaching for the back of the younger man's boxers. As he drew the fabric down Barry's thighs, Len's eyes were fixed on the tented material at his crotch, mouth watering as Barry's swollen need was oh so slowly revealed.   
  
It was beautiful, like the man it belonged to, the shaft curving gently towards Barry's stomach, leading to a purple-flushed head that was topped with a pearl of pre-come. Barry's breaths had become more ragged, tearing through the silence in a juxtaposition to Len's soft, measured breaths. Eyes never leaving the shaft, Len bent forwards, the epitome of control as he allowed himself to brush his lips over the slippery head. The pearl of pre-cum slicked across his lips, the faintly salty flavour invading his open mouth and spreading across his tongue.   
  
Len's eyes fluttered closed in bliss, opening his lips and savouring the experience. Barry keened. The slippery head brushed against the roof of Len's mouth, pulling out a harsh moan from Barry. Looking upwards, Len watched Barry's expression as he put his mouth to work. Len's enjoyment was easily conveyed through the sheer skill at which he worked Barry upwards. Broad, sweeping strokes of his tongue on the shaft were punctuated by periods of flicking the slit, Len's hands on Barry's trembling hips as the younger man's legs shook in an effort to keep himself upright.   
  
Len smirked, eyes drinking in the sight of the object of his obsessions staring down at him amidst harsh pants from behind slanted eyes. Skin flushed and eyes drawn tight with pleasure; Barry sure was a sight to behold. Len wanted to watch him come apart entirely, he wanted to see the expression on Barry's face as Len pulled him over the edge. Len swirled his tongue around the head, enjoying Barry's clear efforts to abstain his orgasm, before ducking his head down fully, opening his throat, and sliding the swollen cock fully into his mouth.  
  
Barry chocked as he cried out, one hand flying up to grasp at the wall, eyes wide open. Len felt the cock twitch in his throat, and he swallowed around the thickness, humming softly and building up in speed. The muscles in Barry's legs were flexing uncontrollably, his cries building up in volume, when suddenly, the hand cupping Len's jaw had moved to his cheek, halting his movement, despite the fact that he could feel Barry twitching in desperation inside his throat.  
  
"St-stop", Barry gasped out, hand shaking slightly against Len's cheek. Len stilled immediately. Barry moaned through gritted teeth, "Ah, please, I don't want to come like this. I want you to f-fuck me".

  
Oh god. Len's cock twitched violently, by now the front of his boxers damp with pre come. This kid was single handedly the hottest fucking thing he'd ever experienced. Len drew back, sliding the straining cock out of his mouth with a lewd suck, before he curled his lips up into a smirk.   
  
"Bed. It’s more comfortable", Len rumbled, and Barry nodded rapidly, hands dragging him up for their lips to meet again. They stumbled up the stairs, pulling each others clothes off as they went. Barry's hands trailed down Len's chest in an pleasant mixture of reverence and hunger, fingers ghosting over his ribs and sliding up his back.   
  
By the time they reached Len's room, they were both naked, and Len was past desperate. Pushing Barry backwards onto the covers, he leant down to lick into his mouth once more, finally, finally trailing a hand down his stomach to grasp his own cock. It was sticky from the intensity of his arousal, hard and straining upwards towards his navel. Barry noticed, and carefully wound his hand in between Len's shallow strokes, taking over.   
  
Groaning, Len dropped his head as his eyes rolled back into his skull. Even with the awkward angle, Barry was so good at this. The kid's grip was perfectly firm, twisting his wrist on every stroke and palming over the head. Len let out another low hum of appreciation, breath stuttering at a particularly good twist, before disentangling himself from the other man. Barry sent him a quizzical look, but Len had to pull away, at least if he wanted to get inside Barry before they came.   
  
Len leant over Barry to retrieve the lube, the muscles in his torso stretching inches away from Barry's face. The younger man curled his hands around Len's shoulder blades, using the leverage to pull himself up so their chest's were flush once more, and latched his mouth just beneath Len's collar bone. Another bead of precum rolled down Len's cock, and he swore, snatching the lube and forcefully reclaimed Barry's mouth.   
  
One hand curled around Barry's cock, thumb teasing just beneath the head, and Len leaned back to get a good view as he squirted lube across his free hand. The little choked off moans and hums he pulled from Barry kept him painfully hard, and as he continued to stroke Barry's shaft, Len inched his slick fingers towards the younger man's entrance. Rubbing  circles into the tight muscle, Len hesitated.  
  
"Are you sure?", he murmured, hands never ceasing their movement. Barry pulled himself into his elbows, the picture of debauchery, and fixed Len a glare that stood the hair along his back on end with arousal, before speaking, "If you don't get your fucking fingers inside me in the next ten seconds I'm gonna do it myself".   
  
Len's grip around Barry's shaft tightened, and almost too quickly, he had two fingers sliding into the beautifully torturous heat of Barry's body.   
  
Barry gasped, falling into his back and arching into the intrusion. Len watched with rapt attention as Barry fucked himself back onto the curling digits, breathy moans escaping his lips with every stroke of his prostate.   
  
"Do you usually finger yourself, Barry?", Len whispered, voice rough as he watched the obscene sight of his fingers disappearing so easily into the younger man.  
  
Barry whimpered, a red hot blush across his cheeks as he arched and nodded, hips undulating.   
  
Len pulled his hand off Barry's cock, sliding the other reluctantly out of the tight heat as Barry collapsed back into the bedsheets, panting desperately. Reaching down, Len wrapped the lubed up hand around his painfully hard cock, unable to repress the groan when he dragged the slippery hand up his oversensitive flesh. Barry reached down, pulling his thighs up to his head, stretching those beautiful, long lines of muscle out on display. All for Len.   
  
Len's eyes darkened in desire, leaning down over the smaller man so their chest were inches apart, lining his cock up with Barry's entrance.  
  
"Last chance to say no", Len's smirk was strained as he clutched on his last shreds of self control. Barry groaned, eyes pissed as he curled his legs around Len's lower back, and pulled himself down onto the older man's cock. Len chocked on his breath, eyes blown and thighs shaking as his need was suddenly encased in beautiful, wretchedly delicious heat. Barry smirked up at Len's gasp, lips parted and panting heavily as he adjusted to the much larger intrusion.  
  
After a few much-needed moments to stave off his orgasm once again, Len took the hint and began to ever so slowly pull out, before beginning the torturously measured re-entry into Barry's heat. God it was so good. So tight, warm and just perfect. God Barry was perfect.  
  
The younger man reached down, hands curling over Len's tight ass as he tried to force him to go faster. Huffing out a chuckle, Len obliged.  
  
Barry's eyes shot wide as Len began to really thrust, putting his weight behind each push. Barry cried out with each thrust, taking all of Len and giving as good as he got. The younger man was circling his hips, pushing back against Len's cock and moaning as he worked a hand between their torsos to pull at his cock.   
  
Sweat slicked both their bodies, hands greedily grabbing at hard shoulders and long lines of muscle as their pace picked up. Barry's cries grew in pitch and volume, hands dropping from his cock Len to anchor himself into the bed sheets. Len's hips were pistoning into him, left hand taking the place of Barry's on the younger man's cock. Grip almost too tight, Len's hand was a blur as he worked Barry closer and closer to the edge.  
  
God Len was close. He needed Barry to cum. He needed Barry to come now because Len couldn't stave off his orgasm off any longer. Leaning down in a last desperate effort, Len licked a long line up Barry's shoulder, before bearing his teeth, and biting down. Barry arched his back further than Len'd thought humanly possible. His whole body stretched tight as a wire, ass clenching torturously down on Len's cock, and they were both cumming.  
  
Len vaguely registered white streaks painting Barry's stomach and Len's chest, but he was so lost in the sensation of his seed pumping into Barry that he couldn't bring himself to care.   
  
After a few tense moments, Len collapsed besides Barry with a spent groan, wincing as he slipped himself out. Barry was too exhausted to move, staring dazedly up at the ceiling and barely responding as Len chuckled and pulled the comforter up over their bodies. Len knew he was going to regret it as he let his lethargic eyes slide shut, and the warmth from Barry's body pull him closer towards unconsciousness, but oddly, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.   
  
•••••••  
  
Len woke first. At some point in the night, they'd moved from on top of the covers to beneath them, and as the bright morning light intruded upon Len's brain, he became aware of a deliciously warm body curled up against his side, blowing hot air across his bare chest.   
  
Len opened his eyes slightly, taking in the sight of Barry curled into his chest. Once again, Len was struck by just how pretty the younger man was, especially in the soft light of the morning. Barry hadn't woken up yet, and his hair was artfully touseled from sleep and last nights activities.   
  
Len stretched out his legs with a quiet, pleasant groan. That was the best sex he'd had in forever. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted someone as much as that, and found himself musing over whether or not Barry would be up for round two before he inevitably left.  
  
It was okay, Len was used to it. People weren't interested in more than a quick fuck with him. Sure he could be attractive in the right lighting, but as soon as someone got to know him past his exterior attractions, they soon left. Despite having long come to peace with this, Len found himself feeling an odd sort of sadness at the thought of Barry Allen waking up, giving him a quick, 'Thanks for the fuck', and walking out of Len's life all together.   
  
Barry began to stir, causing a swift flicker of panic to light up Len's chest. He's thought they'd have more time like that, for Len to soak up the enjoyment of having another body pressed against him before it was, as always, taken away from him.   
  
God Barry was beautiful. Len's chest aches slightly as a soft smile drew across the younger man's cheeks, and hazel eyes opened slightly to meet Len's.  
  
"Good morning", Barry rumbled, his voice slightly slurred from sleep. Len couldn't help the small smile that spread across his own lips at the sight, "Good morning, Barry. Sleep well?".  
  
Barry hummed an affirmative, stretching his arm across Len's chest, and pulling them closer. Len was torn between wanting to commit this to memory, and pulling away before Barry inevitably did.   
  
"What's the time?", Barry mumbled, his lips muffled against Len's pecks.   
  
"9.03", Len replied, bringing up a hand to card through Barry's bed hair before he could think himself out of it. Barry stiffened, suddenly wide awake as he leapt out of the bed, legs tangling in the duvet as he futilely tried to struggle out of the covers.  
  
"Fucking Jesus Christ I'm so fucking late- Oh my god Joe's going to kill me!", Barry frantically scrambled out of the material, before pausing with a groan, clutching his lower back. Len quirked a brow, unable to stop the smug smirk from materialising across his face; at least Barry wouldn't be able to forget him that quickly then.   
  
"Shit I was meant to be on the train to  Starling city an hour ago! I'm gonna have to get another- Fuck!".  
  
Len enjoyed the view as Barry struggled into his boxers, one leg in his jeans as he turned back to face Len. By then, the older man had proper himself up against the headboard, enjoying the show as Barry hopped around his room. Barry's mouth opened like he was about to say something, making a quick hop in Len's direction.   
  
"I'm so sorry I have to go", he floundered, cheeks red, "I really don't usually do that- Uh, randomly sleep with strangers". Len shrugged, resigned to the inevitable, awkward morning after speech. He frowned, however, as Barry begun to hop towards his bedside cabinet, "Uh, if you have a pen and paper-", Barry babbled, grabbing the proffered pen and pad, ignoring the curiously arched brow, and scribbled something across the sheet.  
  
Len found himself staring down at a 11 digit number as Barry turned around and leant over to button up his jeans. In slightly messy handwriting underneath it, were the words _Barry Allen_.   
  
"-Call me sometime. Or, uh, don't, I guess, if you don't want to. I'm going to be in Starling City for a few days, but I'll be back for the particle accelerator being turned on. Uh, yeah,  it would be nice to hear from you", Barry rambled, and Len felt the soft smile from earlier spread across his cheeks as he watched the red flush spread down the back of Barry's neck.  
  
"I'll call you, _Barry Allen_ ".  
  



	2. Cold hearted

"Okay! That is it! Something has happened, and you're not telling us about it!".

Len was snapped out of his musings by Lisa's hand slapping down onto the table top besides his blueprints, narrowly missing his phone. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to face her, "What are you talking about, Lis?".

Lisa huffed, rolling her eyes, "Leonard Snart. Do not lie to me. I just asked you for a new pair of Jimmy Choos and you were so caught up with smiling to yourself that you agreed!".

Len purposefully frowned, "I wasn't smiling to myself".

"Yes you were! You were smiling to yourself and agreeing to buy me more shoes whilst not looking at the blueprints of the heist we're suppose to be planning!", She scrunched up her eyebrows, "Something has definitely happened".

Len shrugged, clearing his throat and hunching over to try and get a better idea of what he was suppose to be looking at.

"You got laid. Didn't you?".

Len tensed slightly, a guilty tilt of his shoulders that Lisa snatched up and brandished triumphantly, "Oh I knew it! I knew you'd been acting differently recently! Mick's been talking about it too, so, who's the lucky fella, Lenny? When can I meet him?".

Clearing his throat, Len pretended to be engrossed in the blueprints, "I never said I was seeing someone".

Lisa laughed, "Lenny you didn't have to! Now who is he?".

Len sighed, Lisa wouldn't give in until she had wrangled the truth out of him anyway, "We're not seeing each other. I've only properly met him once".

Folding her arms, Lisa sent him a look, "Properly?".

Len huffed, eyebrows drawing closer, of course she'd pick up on one slip of the tongue, "Obviously I cased him before approaching him", he muttered, still pretending to be engrossed in the plans.

Lisa paused for a moment, "So what you're saying is you took the time to watch this guy before sleeping with him, and you're still this hooked up on him?". Her face broke out into a grin, "Oh Lenny that's great! I haven't seen you like this in ages! When are you meeting him next?".

Lisa was nothing if not persistent, Len gave up all hope of sidestepping the topic, and sat back in his chair, "I don't know. I haven't called him yet. It was only last night, and he's out of town for a few days, so I'll call him when he's back". She smiled contentedly, "I'm glad, Lenny, you deserve someone that makes you happy. Don't wait too long to call him".

Len glanced down at his phone, he'd been debating whether or not to send Barry a quick text since the man had left that morning. He was unwilling to look creepily keen whilst simultaneously desperate to ensure Barry was interested. The whole situation bothered him. He kept finding himself snapping out of some daydream or another featuring the younger man, in a happy sort of afterglow that hadn't abated since Barry'd handed him the scrawled mobile number. Len didn't do this. He found guys he thought were attractive and slept with them, effectively fucking the attraction out of his system, before moving on to his next conquest when the desire struck again.

He pushed the phone slightly away from him, hunching over and trying to force his head into the game so he could take in the damn blueprints. It was a new heist, one he'd been anticipant to plan; a heist to steal the world-famous Kahndaq Dynasty diamond. Intel said the diamond would be making an undisclosed trip out of central city for a few months, to be displayed in a private exhibition before being returned in time to be shown in another exhibition in the Central City museum.

It'd been a while since they'd planned something this big, Lisa suggesting they do it to get their names back out there, show the buyers they were still at the top of their game, and acquiring a staggering valuable gen in the process just sweetened the deal. Len wholeheartedly agreed, he wanted that diamond, wanted to steal it from right beneath the pigs' noses, and he wanted the rush.

A low curl of anticipation lit up Len's stomach, it had been so long. Len could practically taste the metallic adrenaline in his mouth, the unadulterated exhilaration that so perfectly flavoured his heists. Lisa knew this, they'd never spoken of it, but Len knew they thought about it differently. Lisa saw the jobs as just their means of sustaining a certain lifestyle. She liked buying expensive clothes and shoes and eating nice food, she liked the standard of life they'd now raised to. She also knew Len wasn't bothered by all that, maybe it was because he'd been exposed to Lewis's poison for longer than her, but he couldn't care less about shopping and cuisine. Len lived for the chase, and it was the risks that finally allowed him to feel alive.

Lisa understood. She knew that Len needed the dramatic heists, and helped facilitate them. It was just a plus that Len was so good at planning, the meticulously attentive process of plotting every single stage and factor down on paper, and yet Len knew that was what had allowed them to continue without them both being caught. His reputation as a work-alone, world class thief had only stemmed from his iron clad determination that Lisa should not get caught. She was just as integral as him, just as involved and important, but Len couldn't stomach the idea of her spending any more time in hell because of him.

Her lack of a record wasn't something Len felt proud of, it was something he had to ensure for his own sanity.

Len's eyes drifted back to the phone, forehead relaxing slightly. Maybe Lisa was right. Maybe Barry could be good for him.

"Sure. I'll call him as soon as he's back".

•••••••

Iris's voice turned teasing, "So, Leonard cornered you in the alley, you just melted at his feet, so he whisked you away to his bed? Barry!". Barry shrunk down in his chair, cheeks truly aflame, "Iris. You saw the man. What was I supposed to do?".

"Oh Barry, I'm only joking, please tell me you at least have a way of staying in touch?", Barry rolled his eyes, "I gave him my number, Iris, but I'm not expecting to hear from him for a bit, I told him I'd be out of town until the opening of the particle accelerator", he paused, "About that, you're still covering for me with Joe, right?".

"Yeah, I'm still covering. You so owe me though, double-owe me actually, cause of last night".

Barry chuckled, "Sure, double owe you. Thanks Iris, I'll see you in a few days". After a few good-natured goodbyes, Iris hung up, and Barry pulled his hands into his lap, looking out the window.

The rainy outskirts of Central City raced by; rough, run-down areas riddled with gang crime and muggings. Most of Central's citizens preferred to forget the existence of the outskirts, unwilling to let their picket-fence lifestyle be sallowed by the acknowledgement that Central City wasn't perfect. Yes, it wasn't nearly as bad as Starling City, but recently, Central's Citizens had taken to smugly strutting around with their eyes closed as they congratulated the security of their little lifestyles. Nobody wanted to know about the children on the streets in the outskirts, or the muggings that occurred barely a mile away from their perfect little lives.

Barry had to live it. As the best CI CCPD employed, it was his job to trek out to whatever petty gang shooting or mugging crime scene and collect evidence. No matter what happened there, however, no stories would make their ways into the papers, their pages full of optimistic drivel, ignoring the real issues. He wasn't angry, though, Barry couldn't bring himself to fume righteously over the mistreated, he just felt sad and guilty, because in reality he was just as bad as them.

What had he ever done for them except trail over to pick up evidence of the crimes inflicted upon them? He never solved a crime, wasn't a detective who was able to apprehend any criminals or bring peace of mind to those who'd been wronged. Barry was just the lab guy who had to juggle two jobs to cover his current rent.

Barry may not be able to help everybody in Central City, but he could do this.

•••••••

14.02 - New Text Message To 07*** ****54:  
Hey Barry Allen, This is Len, the guy from last night. I know you're off in Central City for a couple of days, but I was just wondering if you'd want to meet up some time after the particle accelerator opening ceremony? Hope to hear from you, Len

Half an hour later, Len was glaring down at his phone screen, internally cursing the idiocy that posessed him to follow his little sisters advice. Barry probably only gave him the number to ensure an awkwardness-free morning after. Maybe it wasn't even his number.

Len chucked the phone on his bed, and turned to leave. The plans for their upcoming heist were still downstairs, and He'd made it three feet out the door before he heard the tell-tale jingle of his ringtone. The speed at which he was back beside his bed and peering down at his phone was almost embarrassing.

14.35 - New Text Message From 07*** ****54:  
Hi! I was wondering if u were gonna get in contact :) yeah, I'd love that, you want to meet up for coffee or something? I'm free the day after tomorrow? X

Lisa was right, Len could feel the idiotic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Save contact?   
Yes  
Barry Allen

14.37 - New text Message To Barry Allen:  
Yes, Tuesday's good. How about dinner at 8? My place, if you can remember how to get there, Len

14.39 - New Text Message From Barry Allen:  
Dinner sounds awesome! Yes, I can remember :P Is this some sort of tactic to ensure I'm close hand to your bedroom? ;) x

14.39 - New Text Message To Barry Allen:  
What makes you think I'm not going to be the perfect gentleman? I can show impressive restraint

14.50 - New Text Message From Barry Allen:  
Oh I know, don't worry. I would even say ur a bit slow :P x

14.51 - New Text Message To Barry Allen:  
Sometimes you need to take your time to savour the moment, Barry, and I know you weren't complaining x

••••••••

Barry laughed again, earning a few odd looks from his fellow passengers. He felt so light, like his entire being had risen when he'd received Len's first text. This was such a relief, he didn't do casual one night stands, always feeling like crap after he slunk away. Plus he'd really liked Len, really liked him, and the thought of getting to have that sexy, snarky, muscular, form around him and within him only once and then having him disappear had left Barry with a hollow feeling in his chest.

The hollowness had completely rescinded, however, with Leonard's witty, sardonic voice drawling in Barry's head as he read the texts. And now they had dinner plans, at his place. Hot, flustered images of Len's body plastered against his in the semi-darkness crept up on him like the slight blush crawling up the back of his neck. Barry wasn't joking when he said he remembered where Len lived, the walk back revealing that Len's apartment was in one of the most expensive blocks in the city. And Barry wouldn't mind a better look round, he was distracted the first time.

This was better. Away from the suburbs of Central City, with the Glades just beginning to shoot past Barry's window, his nerves had been starting to grow. With Len's easy teasing, Barry's nervousness was almost forgotten.

14.55 - New message to Leonard Snart:  
Touché :P What you up to whilst I'm in Starling anyway? X

••••••

After a vague reply about spending some time with his sister, Len's eyes rested on the half-finished plans. Would Barry Allen be okay with dating a criminal? A world class criminal, even? Len couldn't say for sure, couldn't even hazard a percentage, he just didn't have enough information. Len sighed, he could feel the itch to do more casing creeping up his fingers.

So, Barry Allen, what did the National Security database have on you?

•••••••

The fact that Barry's short weekend away passed in a blink wasn't entirely due to the fact that he'd been texting Len the whole time. It was partly true, yes, but it wasn't the whole reason.

Amidst Len's snark, Barry really was trying to get notes on the supernatural elements of the case he was working (for free! Mind you, the SCPD was getting free labour from him, so it wasn't like he was really doing a bad thing).

The rain had been a bummer after he'd disembarked the train, and thanks to his typical Barry Allen luck, he hadn't been able to hail a cab for a good ten minutes, having to stand there and let his New Scientist magazine soak through with rain. When he'd finally found a cab driver willing to let a skinny, drenched young man into his taxi, Barry was sure the guy had proceeded to take the most long-winded route available before they finally, finally reached the damn Queen Consolidated warehouse.

Barry had stumbled in as a police detective in his early fifties finished a long winded explanation about how odd it had seemed that they only caught one man on camera when it was clearly at least four. They really should be thankful he'd decided to make this trip, clearly their forensics team were compiled of complete idiots.

"It wasn't four people, it was one. One very, very strong man", Barry was a bit breathless, but he succeeded in making all the people in the room turn to regard him properly. There was a young blonde woman, and three men, one considerably more muscular than the other two. The muscular man didn't look impressed, and his eyebrows were crinkled suspiciously the whole time Barry was explaining why he was there, even after he'd shown them his laminate.

He'd known it was one man the moment he intercepted the crime scene photos and report from Joe's desk early yesterday afternoon, the buckles in the steel door only consistent of an adult male's form. It was impossible, of course, so to be honest Barry should give the SCPD's forensics some credit, but Barry was rather good at believing in the impossible.

Luckily, the police hadn't messed with the crime scene too much, and as he talked the small crowd through his reasoning, he was relieved to see the rest of the room was supportive of his conclusion. There were heavy impressions in the concrete, which Barry identified as footsteps, and they were from only one person. Size 12, so almost definitely male, the probability of them belonging to a female small enough that he felt comfortable dismissing that possibility. He then moved on to the cracked base of what he believed to be an industrial centrifuge, kneeling besides it as he explained his reasoning. Actually, it was more of a certainty than a belief. The octagonal base matched up perfectly with that of the latest model released by Queen Consolidated's applied sciences division.

As soon as he was done explaining, Barry grinned up at the disbelieving faces of his audience. The blonde woman was smiling excitedly, something decisively clever in her eyes, and Barry took a liking to her immediately.

The Detective wasn't convinced, Barry could tell by the sceptical closeness of his brows, but Barry was good at dealing with sceptics, "A centri-what?", he said roughly, glancing at the muscular man disbelievingly.

Barry opened his mouth, on a roll, but the blonde woman cut in, glancing between Barry and the muscular guy,  
"A centrifuge, it separates solutions into layers according to their atomic mass". Barry grinned, picking up the explanation, "Yeah, and this wasn't just any old centrifuge, it was a really heavyweight one, super powerful and precise. Whoever stole this is looking to do some pretty complex chemistry".

The woman smilies widely at him again, extending a hand, "Felicity, Felicity Smoak".

Barry clasped it tightly, trying to hide his relief at her easy acceptance, and offered her a grin, "Barry Allen".

It took much longer to get the men to trust him, even after Felicity identified the two other guys as Diggle, and Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen from Queen Consolidated who owned the Warehouse and half the city along with it. That was going to be weird to get used to.

Felicity cornered Barry when he was leaving, halfway through a smug text to Len detailing his intelligence.

"Barry! Uh, wait!", she called out from behind him, on his way to find some sort of cheap motel that wouldn't leave him too light of pocket, "Sorry! I, uh, it was super impressive what you did back there, you sure have a great concept of forensics".

There was something hopeful on her face, something that vaguely reminded him of Iris, and Barry found himself relaxing and smiling as she fell into step beside him, "Uh, thanks! I like my job, I guess I've just had a lot of practice". Felicity nodded eagerly, "Yeah! I'm a scientist too, you know, uh, more biochemistry and computing than forensics, but it's nice to have someone other than me who's science-y on this case".

Barry slipped his phone into his pocket, halfway through his text, "Yeah? You work for the SCPD?".

Felicity laughed, waving her hands around in front of her wildly, "No! No, I work for Oliver!". Barry laughed, smile wide as she fumbled around. She wasn't like Iris, really, she reminded Barry more of himself.

"Wow, that's pretty cool", Barry grinned, "What's it like to work for a billionaire?".

"Not as glamorous as you'd think", she muttered. Barry glanced sideways curiously, there was something there, he could tell, that was interesting. Maybe Oliver was just a crappy boss? "Oh, that sucks. You seem smart, I'm sure you could get a job there if you wanted? I could put in a good word?".

She smiled at him, "Thanks Barry, I appreciate it. I like working for Oliver, I do, he can just be an ass sometimes". Definitely something there, maybe more tense than he'd realised, "Oh!", he exclaimed, trying to keep his voice neutral and failing miserably.

Felicity turned sharply, "No! We're-I'm, it's not like that! Ugh, I'm making a mess of this. I really came over here to ask you something". Barry swallowed, his phone feeling heavy in his pocket. So that was how it was. Felicity was gorgeous, smart and funny, and he was flattered, but as stupid as it sounded, he'd only just been able to get over Iris, and somehow Len was helping with that.

Frowning at his shoes, Barry tried to come up with a way of explaining that he was seeing someone, he swallowed, "Uh, what?".

She jumped ahead, eyes pleading as she turned to face him, Barry really began to feel bad, "I know it's sudden, and asking a lot, but could you please please do us a huge favour and stick around for a few days? I have absolutely no forensic expertise and you seem to know so much more than anybody else here, I would really appreciate it".

Barry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, words jumbled in relief, "What? Yes! Of course!".

"Oh thank you, really we appreciate it, Oliver especially", Barry glanced behind him doubtfully, just able to make out the stern figure of Oliver Queen at the entrance to the warehouse, arms crossed and glaring straight at Barry. Felicity noticed, grabbing his arm, "Uh, even if he doesn't look like it, trust me, he'd be glad to have you around".

Barry sent one last glance back, before sighing, and flashed Felicity a smile, "Sure. I told my captain I'd be off for a few days anyway. What can I do?".

Her smile was almost blinding, "Thank you! Yes! Uh, could you come to Queen Consolidated's main building tomorrow? I'll tell the reception we're expecting you".

Barry nodded, and after a quick hug and rushed goodbyes, Felicity sped back towards the warehouse. Barry shook his head, smiling. This was nice, sure everyone back at the CCPD knew he was smart and trusted his conclusions, but there was always this undertone of condescension. They saw him as clumsy, geeky Barry Allen, who did a good job but probably cracked three test tubes doing it and believed in the insane. There was none of that here, sure, there was scepticism, but with a case like this? There was going to be. These people took him seriously because they didn't judge him by his past.

Barry fished his phone out of his pocket, looking down at the impatient text Len had sent him during his short communication blackout. He smiled, deleting his half finished text and thumbing out a new reply. Maybe it wasn't just the change of scene that had put him in such a good mood after all.

•••••••

Len glared at his computer screen.

Seriously, this was getting ridiculous, the damn computer programme he usually used to collect Intel for jobs or on people came up with results after fifteen minutes; all the document the police had with their name on, their birth details, any workplaces registered with the government etcetera. But preposterously, his screen was declaring that there were over three hundred police reports with Barry Allen's name on them.

That was ridiculous. The damn thing had been running for five hours. Even if Barry was a master criminal, the amount of times the CCPD would've had to catch him to get that many police reports would've put him behind bars by now. The only possible explanation was that his software was broken.

This wasn't just inconvenient, it was downright catastrophic. He was either going to have to find a smart, manipulatable, computer technician, or drag his ass down to the black market again to demand the salesmen there find him new software. Not only were they going to be less than amicable (the last time Len had made the trip he'd come back slightly heavier of pocket than was perhaps acceptable), but this could mean all the data he'd gathered for the diamond heist they were going to complete in less than three days was compromised.

Furious, Len shoved back his chair and pulled on his parka. He needed to go and double check his data, then blackmail a tech genius into trying to fix the programme. That was the potentially lesser of the two evils, and if he was lucky, would take much less time.

"Lisa!", Len yelled over his shoulder, pressing a gun into his shoulder holster, and pulling open their front door, "I'm going out! I'll be back in a few hours".

She stuck her head out from one of the rooms, eyebrows crinkling as she realised he was in full gear, "You sure Lenny? With what we're pulling in a few days- You at least want me to come with?".

"This is very low risk, don't worry. Just gotta check something out. I won't be drawing any attention, don't worry Lis", Len sent her a small smile, before stepping out and pulling the door closed behind them. This was one of their more run-down safe houses, the neighbourhood good for laying low in due to its high percentage of crooked residents. Still, Len pulled his parka hood up, keeping his head down as he walked.

He knew just the place to go.

•••••••  
  
"You do realise that if you're lying, and the program is broken I will send my 'information' to the police, yes?"

The burner phone crackled with the poor signal, "I swear! I've checked the diagnostics three times! The program is completely functional!".

Len let out a quiet hum. The technician really didn't have any reason to lie - it would actually be quite detrimental to his reputation - and the three other reports Len'd run after Barry's came up like normal. Fascinating. Why did Barry's name cause the system to freak out? Nothing else had. It wasn't just a one off, he'd run it again after the initial anomaly and come up with exactly the same results.

The technician was still sweating nervously over the phone, "M-Mr Snart? Is that OK? You'll leave my family out of this now, yes?". Len resisted the urge to snort, he hadn't been planning on doing anything with his blackmail material anyway.

"Yes, your secrets are all safe. I'll call you if I have any more problems". Len hung up amidst the man's babbled thanks, squinting at the screen thoughtfully. So, why was the system short-circuiting with Barry's name?

Len huffed, before pulling up an incognito tab on chrome. It appeared he was reduced to far more primitive methods of research, including that of Google.

Two minutes later, Len had found a match. It wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting, however; a murder feature in the local paper dated a decade ago. His frown deepened as he read further into the article, only noticing just how tight he was gripping the mouse when the plastic started to creak in protest. He dropped it like he'd been burned.

Images of the inside of a dark cupboard and belts and pain crept up from Len's subconscious, and he had to close his eyes and think of something, of anything else to force them away. This was stupid. Len felt so pathetic, sitting there feeling sorry for himself about things that had happened years ago. He was over this. He forced himself to read to the end, grateful that despite the fact that Barry's father was a murderer, there didn't appear to be any indication that he was abusive as well.

Len had a lot of experience with bad fathers. Fathers that left their children battered with other people's pre conceived ideas about them, and highly limited career options. Len turned his eyes back to the article, maybe the confounding attraction he felt to the younger man could be more than just on a physical level, maybe he could actually talk to the kid. For some reason, despite everything, Len felt truly connected to Barry Allen.

A low buzz from besides Len's computer caught his attention, his phone had gone off again, another text.

23.39 - New Text Message From Barry Allen:  
You awake? X

•••••••

Lisa snorted when she walked in on Len standing with his arms crossed in front of the pile of shirts covering his bed with a distinctly put out expression across his face.

"Aw. Lenny can't decide what to wear?", she teased, her grin widening at the glare Len shot at her in reply. One of the shirts in the pile caught Lisa's attention, she could've sworn it had been in the safe house across town the last time she saw it. Eyebrows raised slightly, she stepped in.

"Wear that one", she pointed at a light blue shirt tossed across his desk, "With the charcoal dress pants and suede shoes". Len turned to stare listlessly at the shirt, before walking over and picking it up.

"I said I'd cook for him", he muttered, frowning down at the cotton like he blamed it. Lisa pushed off the wall and walked past him to the closet, "Good. One mouthful of whatever you make will have the boy completely tied down", she pulled out the dress pants, holding them up critically.

It was only when she noticed Len in the same pensive position as a minute ago did she realise that this was more than just nerves, "What's wrong?".

Len glanced up tiredly, dropping his hands to his sides, "it's nothing. He just hasn't text me in a few days, that's all". Lisa laughed, the concern dropping off her face easily, "Oh Lenny, the kid's probably just as nervous as you! Or perhaps he's just keeping you keen. It's something I'd do".

Shoulders relaxing slightly, Len picked up the suede shoes, examining the colours carefully, before turning to face his sister, "Thanks Lis".

Lisa smiled. Anyone who got her brother to care enough that he became so riled up at a few missed texts, was good for him in her eyes.

"Don't mention it, Lenny".

•••••••

8.03

Len sat at his table, debating on whether or not three courses was too much for a first date. Or second, did they even count the first one? Lisa's eyebrows had almost disappeared into her hairline when she'd caught sight of his cooking as she left, and Len's nerves were making him paranoid. Maybe it was a bit much. He could just ditch the coffee truffles he'd made for after dessert, it wouldn't be obvious, and Lisa would certainly not mind the chocolates tomorrow morning.

He glanced at the clock.

8.07.

Maybe Barry really had got lost? A quick text wouldn't hurt, especially if the kid was playing hard to get.

Len would be lying if he said the sudden loss of communication bugged him. It had been two days ago; he'd received a message from Barry stating that he was on the train home after talking almost non-stop whilst he was in Starling, then complete radio silence. Lisa had been adamant, though, full of teasing words about how 'wound up' Len was. He wasn't 'wound up', he just didn't like the sudden lack of communication.

8.14

This was definitely cutting fashionably late close to the edge. Len got up to stir his Creme Ninon, it shouldn't really be left on the heat this long, wouldn't be as nice when they had it. He tried to ignore the messy ball of nerves in his stomach that his earlier worrying had developed into, and the irritating, pessimistic side of his brain that had begun to point out how late it was getting.

Len waited until half past nine. He let the Creme Ninon congeal and begin to emit the harsh, acrid smell of burning, and the pesto salmon crisp up in the oven, before he finally pulled himself out of his chair, and walked out of the house. The phone he left in its place on the table, having been completely silent for the last three hours.

Len bitterly walked down the street towards Saints and Sinners, completely pushing the thought of the beautiful young bartender out of his head, and intending on getting so drunk he couldn't see straight.

He was oblivious to the fact that he trod on a sheet of newspaper as he trudged towards the pavement, not seeing the boot print he left across it's title.

STAR LABS PARTICLE ACCELERATOR EXPLODES.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos are loved and treasured. 
> 
> Seriously, did you listen to the song? You need to listen to the song, trust me, its damn hot.
> 
> Am thinking of perhaps writing a second part, would anyone be interested?


End file.
